


Linear Progression

by meanjerktime



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanjerktime/pseuds/meanjerktime
Summary: “What the fuck? First I find out Gilfoyle spent most of his time in college wearing lycra and now you’re checking him out? What the fuck?!”Erlich set his finished yoghurt container down, tucked his narrow spoon in his pocket (to hide it from those who would seek to use it untowardly) and leaned back in his chair.“Dinesh, as someone whose body looks as if it was carved from the finest marble by a master sculptor, I know what to look for in a man. Jared was right, you are a terrible best friend, take some time to admire Gilfoyle’s-”“Okay, that’s enough for now. And always.” Dinesh stood up and started to make his way towards the front door. “I need to go outside and walk and be… not here listening to you.”





	1. Chapter 1

Almost toppling backwards, Dinesh rocked gleefully in his chair; transfixed by the video currently playing on loop on his screen. He turned his volume up and the sounds of male grunting filled the room.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Fucking Gilfoyle!” Righting his seat, he gestured wildly at the screen to the men seated beside him. Richard, typing steadily across the table, was oblivious thanks to his noise cancelling headphones but Jared looked up from his notes.

“Hmm? Is there a problem with your computer?”

“No, no.” Dinesh was now pointed rather insistently at the video. “Well, yes it’s a piece of shit. But that’s not it. Come and look at this video. Fucking Gilfoyle!”

Jared carefully extracted himself from his seat and stepped to stand behind Dinesh, ducking his head to peer at the still looping video.

“Oh yes, I hadn’t seen the videos before but by all accounts he was very good.”

Dinesh’s smile faltered.

“You knew about this and didn’t tell us?”

“Well, I just assumed it was common knowledge. It’s listed on his résumé.” 

“What did he put? Proficient in being a total moron?” Dinesh clicked on another link and started another video; similar grunting emitting from his computer speakers. “I mean, there’s a lot of videos here. This is almost sad, it must have taken him hours.”

“Well yes, I understand the training alone can take hours each day.” Jared folded his arms and straightened. “And then there’s the dieting to make weight.”

“Jared” Dinesh said levelly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The video, it was-“

“What video?” Erlich asked as he emerged from the kitchen. He was freshly showered, resplendent in a new kimono and eating a Fage yoghurt with a narrow spoon. The handle of the spoon was covered in green electrical tape, marked for the eating of Fage yoghurts only. “Did one of you bring shame to this house by performing sexually on film? Unless you were any good, which I highly doubt from these sounds.”

“I think we’re at capacity for sexual embarrassment in this house already.” Dinesh said, waving Erlich over to share in his hilarity. “This is worse than porn, look!”

“Yes, well, I suppose his form is a bit off. I was always called upon to compete but had to respectfully decline due to a knee injury.” Erlich delicately spooned up some yoghurt. “You’ve never heard it of before because I’m modest. And private. We shan’t speak of it again.”

Dinesh lean back and sighed in exasperation, his hands flung upwards.

“Why are you people not laughing at this?”

“Mistakes are understandable, Dinesh. Especially in the face of intense competition. I wouldn’t know myself, having never made a mistake but I’ve heard-”

“What?! You don’t think this is a real video, do you? Gilfoyle photo shopped himself into fucking weightlifting videos and you think it’s real?! This guy’s lifting-” Dinesh stopped to examine the screen again “He’s lifting really heavy shit. I think.”

Erlich and Jared exchanging a confused look. Jared pressed his palms together and adopted his special I'm-not-patronising-you-because-I'm-too-nice-but-you're-an-idiot tone usually reserved for Richard.

“Dinesh, the videos are of Gilfoyle. He competed in weightlifting throughout high school and college and if you give me a moment to do some searching, I can pull up the competitions he won. I do believe he was nationally ranked in his weight class. I’m really quite surprised you didn’t know, as his best friend you should think about-“

“Fuck off Jared, first of all. Second of all, what the fuck?” Dinesh drew out the curse with a breath and slumped back into his seat. Fucking Gilfoyle. Richard removed his headphones and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Guys, what is the problem now? I swear if we’ve been set back again I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Dinesh found some videos of Gilfoyle.”

“Oh Jesus, it that was these sounds are? What the fuck is he doing making por-“

“Of his weightlifting. Not a homemade pornographic movie.” Jared reassured him. There was a pause that seemed to say to everyone "not this time". Dinesh looked at Richard expectantly. Richard would understand that this was crazy.

“Oh yeah, the uh-“ Richard moved his arms up awkwardly in an impression of weightlifting as skillfully as could be when done by someone whose only form of exercise was climbing down from a loft bed and the occasional panic attack. “He did it for what? Eight years. Wore wooden shoes or something.”

Dinesh tried to remember if he had gotten drunk or travelled to an alternate dimension where nothing made sense.

“So this is all real? Gilfoyle, that Gilfoyle-” Dinesh pointed to the work station that Gilfoyle was currently not occupying despite it being 2pm on a Wednesday. “wore a singlet and threw heavy stuff over his head? For fun? Full jock?”

“Yes!” Jared said happily, returning to his seat and began leafing again through his notes. “It’s all true. A Gilfoyle fact. Gilfoyle eats cereal. Gilfoyle wears glasses. Gilfoyle was a, as you so neatly said, a jock.”

“Gilfoyle is an asshole.” Erlich added, walking away to situate himself in his favorite armchair. Richard smirked and pulled his headphones back on. “And besides, he spends all his time manhandling my heavy appliances and creating holes in the walls. Both without my permission. He’s strong. “

By this point, Dinesh was staring blankly at his screen. The video continued to loop, showing Gilfoyle pull a loaded bar up, neatly jump underneath it, catch it above his head and then, seemingly easily, stand back up. Full fucking jock.

“Plus” Erlich said through a mouthful of mainly jam, the ratio be damned! “Gilfoyle has the second best body in the house, after myself of course, he’s both well formed and muscular. Though comparing him to me is like comparing a 4th grader’s clay model to Michelangelo’s David.”

Dinesh’s blank look turned to horror at the thought, he swung his head to look at Erlich just in time to miss Jared stifling a grin.

“What the fuck? First I find out Gilfoyle spent most of his time in college wearing lycra and now you’re checking him out? What the fuck?!”

Erlich set his finished yoghurt container down, tucked his narrow spoon in his pocket (to hide it from those who would seek to use it untowardly) and leaned back in his chair.

“Dinesh, as someone whose body looks as if it was carved from the finest marble by a master sculptor, I know what to look for in a man. Jared was right, you are a terrible best friend, take some time to admire Gilfoyle’s-”

“Okay, that’s enough for now. And always.” Dinesh stood up and started to make his way towards the front door. “I need to go outside and walk and be… not here listening to you.”

“My dick is way bigger than all those statues by the way. Way bigger! Almost grotesque in it’s size. Just the right size to please yet challenge.” Erlich stood up and started towards the back door, pool bound. “And Dinesh, you don’t have any shoes on.”

But Dinesh was already out of earshot, leaving the front door open in his haste to escape. The open door let in a breeze and with it the smell of freshly mown grass from the lawns of the nice, normal families surrounding the hostel.

The front room became, as it did on rare afternoons, peaceful; just filled with the hum of computers and the tapping of keys. Jared opened his laptop, set his notes to one side and began adding the rhythm of his typing to the room.

Underneath the table, his long legs stretched out. Richard, not looking up from his screen, did the same and rested his feet on Jared’s shins. They both smiled into their screens and worked until the sun dipped sinking the hostel into a warm twilight hour and bringing home Dinesh; pants shredded from an incident with a lawnmower and covered in grass stains.


	2. Chapter 2

After the disaster of the walk around the neighborhood, Dinesh did not mention the videos he had found again. He had a conversation with himself about this late one night, facing the bathroom mirror. There were three bolts on the bathroom door; he used them all, then rolled up a towel and placed it at the crack between the door and floor.

“Gilfoyle is weird, you knew this anyway. He used to wear a singlet and wooden shoes and throw heavy shit over his head. For fun. Full jock.”  
He shivered and checked the bolts again.  
“Erlich doesn’t know what he’s talking about. An Erlich fact. Gilfoyle did weightlifting. A Gilfoyle fact. Everyone knows, no one cares. Don’t mention it again.”  
He checked the time on his phone.  
“Go to bed.”

Dinesh found his toothbrush, applied Colgate and started brushing, turning his back to the mirror and leaning back to sit on the sink. He stared at the ceiling while he brushed and then turned and spat into the sink. Putting away the toothbrush, he caught his own eye.  
“And stop watching those videos.”

The videos. It had been four days since Dinesh had found those videos and he had not yet gone a waking hour without watching at least one of them. First thing in the morning before checking emails. Underneath the breakfast table, phone balanced on his knee. Floating in the pool. Using the bathroom. Last thing at night, sheets pulled over his head with headphones in and the volume turned up.

He had almost been caught once. Jared had walked right into him in the hallway and sent his phone, still playing a video, skittering across the floor. Dinesh had dived to retrieve it and ended up belly flopping the carpet. Jared, who had no moved towards the phone at all, held out a hand.  
“I’m sorry, my head wasn’t here. Are you hurt?”  
Dinesh ignored the hand and pulled himself up, holding his phone to his chest.  
“Uh, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking either.”  
“What are you watch-“  
“Porn. Just porn. Real sick stuff, I should probably get back to my room and enjoy all this weird, twisted porn in private.”  
Jared adopted a look that he intended to be a cross between friendly concern and not-to-be-messed-with authority, he had learned it at Hooli. It came off as more doe-eyed; a baby dear in a vest.

“Dinesh, it’s 10am. Now I know we’re all young virile men throbbing with rampant sexual desires and we all enjoy some sweet, sweet pornographic content-” Jared didn’t look like he really knew where he was going with this. “-but, er, isn’t it a little early for it?”  
Dinesh closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and count to three. He crossed his arms.  
“Isn’t it a little early for you to be on Richard’s dick?”  
Jared paled; from ghost to milk.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“You just came out of his room. Poor guy probably isn’t even dressed yet and you’re probably trying to subject him to some corporate bullshit you invented to have the excuse to write more memos or install a water cooler or some shit.”  
They stared at each other and simulataneously backed away slowly. They left the hallway through opposite doors, both vowing to be more careful. Dinesh told himself, to the mirror in his room this time, that he really should stop watching those videos immediately. He lasted two hours.

It was, of course, Jared who eventually caught him. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it and Dinesh was up with a screenful of unfinished work. The sun came up in tow hours and the coffee pot was empty. He blinked hard with heavy eyes and opened a minimized window. He clicked play.  
“Dinesh, it’s really late.”  
Dinesh toppled sideways out of his chair in shock. Pulling himself back up, he saw it was Jared who had spoken; hair mussed from sleep and wearing pajama pants Dinesh could have sworn belonged to Richard.  
“Jared, what the fuck are you doing sneaking around here like a burglar?” He hissed. Jared shifted from one foot to the nervously.  
“I’ve always been lightfooted. One of my foster mothers remarked once that she should have me fitted with a bell. She also referred to me only as ‘God’s only mistake’, so I’d repressed that memory up until now.”  
Dinesh stared.  
“What are you doing up anyway?”  
“Just rehydrating.” Jared said, holding up his glass. He’d cut a wedge of lemon for the rim. “Watching Gilfoyle’s weightlifting competitions again?”  
Dinesh realized the video was still playing and quickly closed the window.  
“No.”  
“Is that what you’re watching all the time? I must admit I’m relieved, I thought we were going to have to have an intervention and I really don’t know if I can take doing another one.”  
Dinesh opened his mouth to argue but decided he was too tired. He rested his head on his forearms.  
“Just don’t tell anyone. Please.”  
“Oh no! Of course not! Although it’s nothing to be ashamed of. He is your best friend. You’re just catching up. “  
“No. Just no.”  
“Well, if not that then why are you watching them?”  
“They just…I don’t know.”  
“Yes, you do.” Jared pulled up a chair and sat down. Dinesh looked up and Jared fixed him with a look that Dinesh supposed he had learned at Hooli. He hadn’t. This one came from a foster brother who used to take his allowance and this one worked. Dinesh regretted his next words before he’d even finished saying them.

“I don’t know! I guess they’re relaxing. They’re cool.” Dinesh lowered his head again. “They make me happy?”  
“Seeing Gilfoyle’s achievements makes you happy.”  
“No!”  
“Seeing Gilfoyle makes you happy.”  
“Please don’t say that.”  
“You make each other happy. Or you try to.” Jared pressed. Dinesh did not answer, just clapped his arms over his head.  
“Think about it. You two may snark and snipe at each other sometimes but you do such nice things for each other too.” Jared set down his water, placed both hands over a knee and began reciting. “He buys you coffee almost every time he goes out, you buy his Old Rasputin.”  
“He’d bitch if he didn’t have it!”  
“He has stolen crates worth of lemons for you and never the bruised ones. You let him make that hole in your wall even though you had to move your bed. He won’t play videogames with anyone else.”  
Dinesh raised his head just slightly and met Jared’s eye.  
“He won’t?”  
“Oh no, his exact words were ‘I don’t want to listen to Dinesh whining that you got ectoplasm and butthole ointment all over his controller’. You guys are really quite close, it’s sweet.”  
“This is such bullshit, Jared. You’re not exactly describing-“  
“You’re together all day. He goes to get breakfast, you go with him. You get up to make lunch, he follows. I see you hanging out by the pool after work most nights and I’ve heard him invite you to three different concerts.”  
This was true.

“When you go to parties, you two always stand at the side together like chummy little wallflowers.”  
“Yeah, because everyone else is usually stupid!” Dinesh felt like a little kid arguing about this. His voice was getting higher with each protestation.  
“I’m sure that’s true to you. Everyone else is stupid when you have your best friend to talk to.”  
“No!” Dinesh was almost yelling.  
“You’ve spent the last five days watching those videos of him. They make you happy. Just think about it.” Jared picked up his water and stood up. “Goodnight.”  
Dinesh sat back up, rubbing the birdge of his nose with his eyes screwed shut. He opened them and fixed a paritcular spot on the carpet with a glare, willing the headache that was forming to go away. He failed to notice that the room Jared was returning to was Richard’s.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinesh could not stop thinking about what Jared had said. Every time Gilfoyle set a coffee and a day-old muffin down next to his workspace or he found himself tapping Gilfoyle on the shoulder to go eat lunch together he could feel Jared’s eyes on them. One night he had a nightmare, Jared was looming over him dressed as the Grim Reaper. He had pulled back his black hood with bony fingers and wailed frieeeeendshiiiiiip. 

Erlich was also not helping the situation. Every time Gilfoyle’s back was turned, he would nudge Dinesh and point out the width of Gilfoyle’s shoulders or the tight bulge of his tricep. Dinesh suspected he was getting an ulcer. And he was watching the videos more than ever. 

After a particularly trying day (“Just look for a moment at the way his spinal erectors emerge through that shir-wait, that's my shirt! Gilfoyle!”), Dinesh was relieved to flop down next to Gilfoyle for an evening of senseless digital violence and beer. Gilfoyle handed him a controller and a bottle.  
“Ready for your nightly spanking?”  
“Your mom’s busy tonight, so I’m free to kick your ass instead.”

They played for a while like this, trading jibes and putting in an order for pizza in between sips of beer. The pizza arrived and they took a break from the game, settling back into the couch and wiping their greasy fingers onto their shirts. Gilfoyle waited until Dinesh had crammed a half slice of pizza into his mouth before speaking.  
“So I heard you found my college weightlifting videos and had a mental breakdown.”

This had the desired effect. It took six hard slaps on the back to stop Dinesh choking and two more until he could spit out the half-masticated pizza into a handful of napkins.  
“You asshole!” Dinesh managed to hiss between coughs, looking accusingly at Gilfoyle through teary eyes. “What was that for?”  
Gilfoyle smiled and held out his beer.  
“First, you proved that you were freaking out about it. Second, you deserve it for freaking out.”  
“I could have choked to death!”  
“And I would have ensured your tombstone noted your cause of death. Choked on pizza. He died as he lived, a moron.”  
“It’s good to know you would continue to humiliate me in the next life.”  
“What else are friends for?”

Dinesh almost spat out the beer he was swigging, trying to calm his aggravated throat.  
“What? Did you get dropped on your head or did Jared pull that shit on you too?”  
“No and yes. He gave me an itemized list of reasons as to why we’re such great pals.” Gilfoyle smirked and set his pizza box to one side. “And don’t swallow your tongue again but he’s probably right.”  
Dinesh’s eyebrows shot up and he made a series of unintelligible noises. Gilfoyle rolled his eyes and raised his arm to thump Dinesh’s back again before he was fended off.  
“Do you really believe that?”  
“I’m holding off on making you a friendship bracelet for now but I guess we are.”  
Dinesh opened his mouth to answer back and decided not to bother; he couldn’t even argue this against Jared, what hope did he have against the walking definition of obstinate? Instead, he put his pizza box and soggy napkins onto the floor and picked up a controller. Gilfoyle found the other and they got back to playing. After a while, Dinesh noticed Gilfoyle was glancing at him. A lot.  
‘What?”  
“Jared told me something else. About the videos you found.”  
Dinesh kept playing. He didn’t look at Gilfoyle. Or blink. Or breathe.  
“You’ve been watching them, pretty much all the time is what Jared said. I noticed you were on your phone more, figured you’d just made another Tinder account.”

“Jared’s a lying asshole.” Dinesh was gripping his controller so hard his knuckles were pale and bloodless.  
“Jared is about as capable of lying as you are at beating me in this game. He was sweating so much I knew something was up. Took me about two minutes to get it out of him.”  
“Fucking Jared.” Dinesh’s teeth were gritted.  
“It was pretty easy. I just said I knew what he’d been up to at night and it all came out. 50/50 shot he’d been up to something. I figure he’s so repressed he’s been showering without a bathing suit and feels bad about it.”

Dinesh’s mouth quirked into a smile despite himself. They played in silence for another few minutes.  
“One last thing.”  
“Fuck. What?”  
“Do you have a crush on me?”  
“Oh, hah hah!”  
“No really. I want to know.” Gilfoyle paused the game and turned to face Dinesh, who kept his eyes on the screen.  
“This isn’t funny.”  
“It isn’t supposed to be.”  
“You’ve finally lost it then.” A film of perspiration had formed on Dinesh’s forehead.”  
“Maybe.” Gilfoyle gently pulled the controller out of Dinesh’s grip. “Cause if you do, I’d be open to giving it a go.”

“What?!” Dinesh’s voice was hoarse and he could feel a bead of sweat run from his hairline down his neck.  
“You and me. In a relationship. We could try it. Not much would change any-“  
Gilfoyle stopped when Dinesh abruptly stood up and stormed away to his room, slamming his door after him. 

Dinesh stayed in his room for the rest of the night, emerging only once for a glass of water. This happened to be the same time as Jared was walking from the kitchen with a huge bowl of freshly prepared popcorn. The sight of Jared bewildered with his bowl upturned on the carpet, popcorn everywhere should have made Dinesh feel better. It didn’t. Richard banging on his door and yelling that he was an asshole made him feel even worse. 

Early the next morning, Dinesh snuck out to the bathroom. He triple-bolted the door again and stood in front of the mirror, ready to tell himself that he should really download Tinder again and forget about his male, Satanist co-worker/potential friend. The word friend still felt strange to even think. He looked himself in the eye, ready for a great self-pep-talk. But nothing came.  
“Fuck.”  
Dinesh climbed into the bathtub and curled up, only leaving a few hours later when Erlich threatened to make him sleep in the front yard for the next month.


	4. Chapter 4

Even after Richard forced Dinesh to apologize to Jared, a decidedly negative atmosphere lingered in the house. Dinesh hadn’t spoken to Gilfoyle in a week. He ignored the usual lattes set at his desk and ate lunch in his room. At first Gilfoyle had rolled his eyes and pressed on; placed huge whipped-cream-and-sprinkle-topped coffee monstrosities next to Dinesh’s keyboard with ‘princess’ written on the cup in curled script. But after a few days of being ignored he stopped and there were no more invitations to play a game on a break or order Chinese food, just silence and doors closed a little too hard. Richard and Jared exchanged looks but said nothing. 

It was a problem, ultimately and improbably, solved by Jian Yang. 

Dinesh was pouring himself a glass of water to take some Gaviscon with. He’d had a sour, churning feeling low in his stomach since his last conversation with Gilfoyle. Probably that ulcer again. He turned off the tap and glanced out of the window. The sky was cloudy, painted with the pinks and oranges of the quickly setting sun. Erlich’s oversized unicorn floaty was turning lazy circles in the pool with the breeze. Dinesh popped the tablet into his mouth, took three quick swallows of the water and then set his glass down. The beginnings of a headache were crackling at his temples and suddenly he was craving a lungful of the fresh evening air. 

It wasn’t until he was sat by the pool that he noticed he wasn’t alone. Gilfoyle, dressed in a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, was in his own deck-chair, hunched over a book. His hair was tucked behind his ears and the skin of his arms seemed to Dinesh to be glowing the warm evening light. Dinesh held his breath, momentarily transfixed by the shift of muscle in Gilfoyle’s forearm as he turned a page. 

“Didn’t know I was out here?” Gilfoyle’s eyes did not leave the book. Dinesh swallowed, the headache settled onto his head in a crown of pain, squeezing at his temples. Neither of them heard Erlich’s yelling in the house for someone to lock the back door (“lest degenerates break in to steal my priceless artworks or deflower Richard, I’ve seen the looks”) nor the sound of Jian Yang turning the bolt. 

“No.” A week seemed like enough time. 

“Well, I have to do something with my evenings while you’re having this hissy fit.” 

“I’m not!” Dinesh’s voice was embarrassingly high. He clenched his fists. 

“You know, I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“What?!”

“A simple yes or no will do.”

“You’re kidding, just drop it.”

Gilfoyle closed his book and looked up at Dinesh. His gaze was narrowed and sharp. “I’m not. I told you.” He watched as Dinesh stood abruptly and marched over to the door. “You’ll have to give me an answer sooner or later.“

Dinesh tried to open the door and finding it locked, jiggled the handle wildly. Cursing Erlich under his breath, he started over towards the side gate. 

“That gate’s probably not been opened in ten years. It’s rusted shut.” Gilfoyle called, finding his page again. He smiled as he noticed Dinesh eyeing the fence that surrounded the back yard. “Oh please do. I would love to see that.” 

“Fuck you! And fuck this yard!”

“Before you send up a distress flare, come over here.” The sun had finally set and the yard was only dimly lit by the pool lights. Gilfoyle’s face was in shadow and unreadable. Despite himself, Dinesh found he was perched on the end of Gilfoyle’s deckchair. 

“You think anyone will notice we’re out here?”

“No.”

“Fuck!”

“But since you’re trapped out here, you can give me your answer.”

The pain in Dinesh’s head throbbed, his stomach squeezed despite the tablet and he suddenly felt very, very tired. 

“Swear on Anton.”

“What?”

“Swear on Anton that you’re not fucking with me.”

“I swear” Gilfoyle said after a moment. “on Anton’s life that I’m being serious. I’m not messing with you.”

Neither one of them spoke for a while. The temperature was dropping Dinesh shivered. His fists were still clenched so tightly his nails were leaving half-moon indentations in his palms. 

“Then I guess the answer is maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yeah.”

“I waited a week for maybe?”

“Ugh asshole! You don’t exactly make me want to fall into your arms and swoon.”

“Oh.”

Again, there was silence. Dinesh shifted in his seat, his leg was growing numb from the way he was sat. Gilfoyle shuffled over and they sat side by side, knees touching. 

“You didn’t let me finish the other day.”

“What have I done to deserve this? Seriously?”

“Can I now? Are you going to have a stroke or call 911 on me?”

“Just say what you want to say.”

“It makes sense. We already spend way too much time together. I already know all the weird and annoying things you do.” Dinesh felt Gilfoyle’s hand on his knee. “And you’re Pakistani Denzel, so fucking you wouldn’t exactly be a chore.” 

“I feel like I’m having an out of body experience.”

“Because you’re so happy?”

“Yes, your words have brought me to tears. Have you considered writing sonnets?”

Their eyes met and they smiled at each other, barely visible to the other in the dark.

“This is really fucking weird.”

“Yeah.”

‘Can I think about it some more?”

“Will you stop acting like you’re a teenage girl mad at me for stealing her prom date?”

“Why do you know what that’s like?”

They bickered for a while longer, Gilfoyle’s hand only leaving Dinesh’s knee to pull the back-door key out from his pocket where he had had it all along. Neither of them noticed four faces at the kitchen window watching them, nor the knowing looks exchanged when they made their way inside (still arguing) to kick Richard off of the couch and play a game. Erlich ordered pizza for everyone in celebration of the equilibrium being restored, taking his outside on the unicorn floaty. 

Full and feeling much better, Dinesh returned to his room later that night to find the SWOT board leaning up against his bed. There was a stack of cards and a marker neatly placed on his nightstand. One card had already been written out in familiar handwriting and tacked under opportunities. Dinesh pulled it off and read it, his pulse quickening. He replaced it, uncapped the marker and got to work.


	5. Chapter 5

It did not take long for the SWOT board to get out of control. Dinesh had taken to carrying cards around the house in his back pocket to jot down ideas he had during the day. Often, Gilfoyle would text him things to add; usually hilarious and wildly improbable opportunities. He had also once sent, while standing two feet away from him in the line at the grocery store, a strength that made Dinesh drop a too-ripe watermelon. It had exploded spectacularly over an older woman who launched into the most wonderfully obscene tirade of abuse either of them had ever heard, dripping with fleshy red pulp from the waist down.

“Will always have a getaway driver from fruit based crimes” was left on Dinesh’s desk chair that night. He added it, along with the strength that made him drop the melon in the first place.

After two days the board had been discarded and one of Dinesh’s walls (the one with the hole) had been divided up into quadrants. Gilfoyle hadn’t asked to see it but had left two fresh packs of cards and a new marker outside of his door.

Jared had become very excited by their new interest in his corporate resources and told Dinesh there were plenty of SWOT boards around the house and that he should keep that one for as long as he needed it. Gilfoyle overheard this and sent a text that led to “mean to Jared” being added to strengths. They then spent a pleasant hour locating all of the SWOT boards and propping them up to form a fort to which a card that read Nerd Den was tacked. Dinesh, when Gilfoyle had gone to watch a movie, left a bowl of popcorn inside and took down the card.

All in all, the board seemed pretty strongly tipped one way.

There were just two cards keeping Dinesh from changing his maybe to a yes. Just barely though, the word was on his lips every time Gilfoyle draped an arm around the back of his chair or ordered him to take a break so they could play a video game for half an hour. Gilfoyle had, late at night, sent him a picture of Jared’s head photoshopped onto the body of a baby giraffe and he had found himself outside of Gilfoyle’s door, ready with a speech, before he had turned back.

The first point was not completely serious, although the fear did linger enough in the back of Dinesh’s mind to stop him from just tossing the card. It read “we become like Richard and Jared”.

Erlich had discovered Jared and Richard in a compromising position a day or so ago and hadn't shut up about it since. At first they had been embarrassed and retreated a little from the computer room (understandable when Erlich wouldn't stop demanding that they pay to have the couch re-upholstered) but now they're returned and fallen into being what Dinesh could only describe as affectionate. Gross.

Richard would lean on Jared while he was making coffee or putting bread into the toaster. They exchanged looks and quick kisses over the paper and laptop laden kitchen table. Dinesh was pretty sure he'd heard a mumbled "I love you" from Richard. It was hard to tell when it was said into the slope connecting Jared's neck and shoulder. 

Dinesh was considering this card as he washed out a bowl in the sink. Engrossed in the dried cereal remnants, he failed to notice Gilfoyle walk up behind him until he felt the hand placed on his lower back.

“You’re going to make someone a lovely wife some day.”

“I could drown you in this sink so, so easily.”

Gilfoyle sniggered and then, for the first time and just for a second, pressed his lips to the back of Dinesh’s neck. The sensation was warm and dry and made his skin crackle with pleasure. 

He tore up the “become Richard and Jared” card later that day.

The second card was much more of a concern. Dinesh decided he needed a second opinion . He made a list to consider his options. It went as follows:

-Richard – likely to vomit  
-Gilfoyle – subject, unlikely to believe I’m asking for a friend.  
-Jian Yang – has repeatedly told me not to speak to him.  
-Monica –too pretty, also might get mad.  
-Carla – In Costa Rica??  
-Mirror - uncooperative  
-Erlich - NO

This left Jared (next to whose name he originally written betrayer, blabbermouth and this is all his fault) as his only option. He decided the best course of action was to get Jared alone; easier said than done considering his 24/7 work schedule and the fact that he was now sharing a room with Richard.

It didn’t take Dinesh long to figure it out. An image pulled from the first page of a google image search and a text had Jared running into the kitchen within minutes.

‘Is it hurt? Did you see a nest?”

“Jared-“

“Where is it? Did you touch it at all?”

“Jared, there’s no bird.”

Jared looked even more crestfallen than when Dinesh had flipped his popcorn bow. He almost felt bad for his ruse. Almost.

“You really shouldn’t joke about seeing a short tailed albatross chick. I have the California Department of Fish and Wildlife on speed dial. One more false alarm and Denise says she will be forced to block my number.”

“Look, I’m sorry that even other weird bird people find you annoying but this was for a good reason. I need your help.”

Jared folded his arms.

“With what? If it’s a secret. I won’t do it. Gilfoyle is too persuasive.”

“Just…shut up for a second.” Dinesh pulled the second card from his back pocket. “So you know I’ve been using the SWOT board.”

‘It seems like quite the project.” Jared’s face split into a grin at the thought of such dedication to logical, merit based decision making.

“It is.” Dinesh began twisting the card nervously. “It’s kind of a personal decision I’m trying to make.”

“About Gilfoyle?”

Dinesh dropped his gaze to the card in his hands, already starting to tear from twisting and folding he had been subjecting it to for the last day.  
“No! Someone else.”

Jared pressed his lips together and re-crossed his arms.

“Okay. What do you need help with?”

“It’s this.” Dinesh handed Jared the card, still avoiding eye contact. “I’m thinking of…starting a kind of relationship with someone.”

Jared read and reread the card, turning it over in his hands.

“This is-“ he paused and frowned, tapping the card on the back of his hand.

“What?”

“Don’t you have any feelings toward this person?”

“What?!”

Jared held the card up and read it aloud.

“What if I never find anyone better and I’m stuck?”

Dinesh felt his stomach drop low and then twist to hear the words out loud. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Give me the card.”

“Oh, sure. I hope I haven’t said anything wrong.” Jared handed it back quickly, looking wide eyed and apologetic. Dinesh tore the card neatly in two and, leaving the pieces on the counter, started to leave the room.

“Uh, thanks for your help. I guess” He muttered, pausing in the doorway with his eyes fixed on his feet. “Sorry I said there was a bird.”

“Happens all the time.” Jared smiled, gracious as ever. “And, you’re welcome.”

Dinesh returned to his room and spent the next ten minutes curled in a ball on his bed, willing the lump in his throat to go away. Finally, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped until a familiar video started playing. He stayed curled up and watched it, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile. When it was done, he got up, smoothed his clothes and hair and padded back out into the hallway. The sinking feeling was gone.

Gilfoyle’s door was wide open and the room empty, as was the bathroom, the garage and the computer room. Dinesh turned to check the kitchen just in time to see Gilfoyle, hair damp and curling at the nape of his neck, pick up the two halves of the torn card and read them. 

“Stop! Don’t read those.” Dinesh choked out, voice cracking.

Gilfoyle turned to meet his eye with a cool gaze. His eyes dropped to read the card again and Dinesh couldn’t help but track the path of a water droplet from Gilfoyle’s hair. It slid down his neck to wet the collar of his tshirt, turning the burnt red a darker shade.

“What if-“Gilfoyle read, voice flat. “-I never find anyone better and I’m stuck.”

“I didn’t-“

“Save it. I don’t care.”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean-“ Dinesh was cut off again by Gilfoyle slamming the two pieces of card down on the counter and stalking past him. “Just wait a second.”

Gilfoyle stopped and turned to face him, their noses inches apart. His cheeks were tinged with red and his eyes dark. The doorway they both stood in suddenly felt very small to Dinesh, as if it was closing in.

“Fuck off.” Gilfoyle hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you and your someone better get stuck together soon. Far away from me.”

“Stop it.” Dinesh tried to find Gilfoyle’s hand but it was ripped away. “I didn’t mean it. It’s stupid.”

“Maybe you should start doing things you mean then.” Gilfoyle pushed past Dinesh and headed for the front door. “Instead of wasting my time and yours.”

Gilfoyle slammed the door as he left and Dinesh was left staring at the two crumpled pieces of blue card and Gilfoyle’s forgotten cereal. He reasoned that his vision was blurry because he had forgotten his contacts. The twisting feeling in his gut? Must be the ulcer again.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr name is also meanjerktime, you can head over there a make a fic request if you want! 
> 
> The title of the fic comes from a concept in strength sports (amongst other things) where by you improve your lifts from week to week, month to month etc.


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